This and That
by miss.ouiser
Summary: A series of one-shots originally published on Tumblr.
1. What Has Been Seen

**What Has Been Seen**

"Have you lost your way, Master Turner?" Nurse Crane, hands behind her back in her customary at-ease position, was trying to determine why Tim had come to a complete stop between the kitchen and dining room at Nonnatus House. The boy seemed rooted to the spot, mesmerized by something on the opposite wall. Phyllis had narrowly avoided colliding with him and the soup tureen he was carrying.

"Um, no. Nothing, Nurse Crane. I'm sorry," Timothy practically stuttered, and Phyllis couldn't help but notice that he had turned a rather spectacular shade of red from his neck to his hairline. Odd, he was normally such a composed young man. Phyllis was rather fond of him.

"Timothy, wake up and put that soup on the table, please. We're almost ready to sit down." Shelagh came in from the kitchen with a basket of rolls. Tim jerked his head around to look at his mother, his cheeks getting even redder. Surprised at his reaction, Shelagh reached her hand out to feel his forehead, afraid he was coming down with something. The boy moved quickly, stepping forward and practically dropping the tureen onto the table. Some of the soup sloshed over the side, but Tim was too busy trying to escape the room to notice.

"Um, excuse me…I've got to…be back in a minute," he sputtered as he bolted from the dining area, leaving the two women to stare at each other in bewilderment. They heard the front door open and close.

Once outside, Timothy took a deep breath and hoped in vain that he had imagined it. That spot on the wall in the dining room. He knew exactly what caused it: Brylcreem. And he knew exactly how it got there, although he felt a little nauseous thinking about it. And more than a little embarrassed, perhaps even appalled. Really, what were they thinking? And how was he supposed to get through luncheon with that staring him in the face?

It was bad enough he had eat his breakfast looking at an identical one on the kitchen wall at home.


	2. Driving Lessons

"Are you trying to run over your young man?" Phyllis braced herself against the dashboard as her beloved little car screeched to a halt. A glance in the rearview mirror saw the Rev Hereward peeling himself off the wall of the shop. Another glance at the driver revealed a palette of determination, concentration, and frustration in equal measures. Phyllis wasn't entirely sure that it was all due to learning to drive.

"Not _trying_ , exactly, no," Barbara responded with her customary deadpan honesty. She attempted to shift into first, but popped the clutch. The car came to a sudden, seizing halt, and then all was quiet. Phyllis waited expectantly. Barbara was suddenly, inexplicably reminded of an otter she had once seen in a zoo. "But…"

"But…?" Phyllis waited a few beats more. "But if it happens, you'd be alright with it?"

That did it. "No! Of course not!" Barbara was all earnest horror. Phyllis had learned that her young roommate was frequently given to these bursts of passion, often followed by a fretting uncertainty. "It's just that, sometimes, I get the feeling that Tom doesn't, well, that he doesn't _see_ me. The real me. That he looks at me and sees what he wants to see." Barbara's hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"And might I inquire what happened to bring about these ruminations?" Phyllis was glad the car was at a complete stop. This could take a while.

"It's just that, well, when I told Tom that I wanted to learn to drive, well, he just laughed. 'Really? What for?' Like I was some little girl asking for a pony." Her shoulders slumped bit as she mumbled, "I doubt he ever treated Trixie like that."

"Don't mumble. It makes people think you don't believe what you say. And for what it's worth, I agree with you; I don't believe he treated Nurse Franklin the same way." Again, the expectant otter face. "Why do you think that is?"

"Trixie wouldn't stand for it!"

Phyllis responded immediately, "Then why do you? Look, kid, I may be a spinster, but I'm not completely ignorant of the workings of the male-female relationship. If you want Mr Hereward to stop treating you like a child, then tell him so. Very clearly, and very soon."

Barbara gave her companion a small, grateful smile. "You make it sound so easy."

"Well, I don't believe it's as herculean a task as you may think. Now, if we're done here, I suggest we start back to Nonnatus House. Do you remember what I told you about engaging the clutch?"

"Yes, I think so." A brief review soon had the engine started again. Barbara paused before putting the car into gear. "You know, Phyllis, when you first came to Nonnatus, I was a little bit afraid of you," Barbara did not miss the older woman's almost imperceptible wince, "and then you taught me so much that I thought of you as my mentor. And now, well, I'd like to think of you as my friend." Barbara looked a bit sheepishly over at Phyllis, gauging her reaction.

Phyllis felt a few tears threaten, and blinked quickly. "I would like that very much." She cleared her throat. "Now, _senorita_ Gilbert, let's get this show on the road."

Barbara laughed, her previous angst forgotten momentarily, as she ground into first gear. " _Yo soy una amiga de Phyllis._ "


	3. The 4x100: Four one-hundred word drabble

"Honestly, the ones who need to be in hospital are delivering at home, and the healthy ones are running to hospital," Nurse Crane moaned as she plunked into her seat at the table.

"Yes, well, it's been a trying week for all of us." Ever the diplomat, Sister Julienne proceeded to say the blessing.

"Mrs. B. has favored us with a new pudding," Barbara announced from the doorway, and placed the creation on the table. "Bananas coronet."

"Bananas are superfluous to this situation," Sister Winifred proclaimed to her stunned colleagues, and proceeded to pluck the offending fruit from the dessert.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

She had heard the rumors, of course. A woman in her position heard all sorts of things. But then she saw them together: the dark-haired doctor, his petite wife, the strapping son. And the baby. Rosy-cheeked, blonde hair, babbling, beautiful. So beautiful. And she knew. And her eyes stung and her stomach clenched and her heart ached.

And she wondered. "Did I do the right thing?"

Perhaps it was not too late. Things can be undone…

"It's getting late, milady, perhaps we should be going?"

She stepped into the waiting limousine. On second thought, that wasn't her granddaughter after all…

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Sister Bernadette scanned the parish hall. The children were making their way to the stage, and still there was no sign of him. She glanced quickly at the young boy playing the violin, a tea towel from the Nonnatus kitchen on his head. She saw that his father's absence had not gone unnoticed.

Wait, there he was, hair disheveled and tie askew, rushing to his seat, grinning, slightly breathless.

No, that wasn't quite right. It was Sister Bernadette who found herself slightly breathless. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. For peace, for joy, for a father and son.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"No."

"I'm afraid I must insist."

"Can't."

"But why? I've seen you handle far more difficult things."

"T'ain't right. Them days is behind us now, thank God, and I'll not drag 'em up again."

"Just this once. Please."

"And next year?"

"Well, birthdays do come around every year."

"Fine. But I don't like it. Ain't natural."

"Thank you, Mrs. B. I know Nurse Crane will be so pleased."

"Hmmph," muttered Mrs. B. to the retreating Sister Julienne. "And what do I do about the pudding? Carrot cake?" She turned to the recipe for "meaty" Red Lentil Roast. "Birthday dinner indeed…"


End file.
